


Dionysia

by angeloscastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeloscastiel/pseuds/angeloscastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With God gone and the angels dead or fallen, the hierarchy of Heaven has well and truly crumbled – leaving a power vaccuum upstairs that’s begging to be filled. As the Olympian gods rise to take their place as lords of heaven once more, a battle is brewing between father and son that threatens to engulf the whole world. Sam, Dean and the newly expanded Team Free Will find themselves, once more, on the brink of an apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It takes nine days for Castiel to find his way back to the bunker – eleven days of hitchhiking and questions with no answers and pain and exhaustion and hunger – until he comes across a small, weedy looking man on the seventh day after his fall.

“Hey buddy, you all right?” the man asks Castiel, because he ran out of money three days ago and hasn’t eaten in two, and his newly human body is protesting.

“No,” Castiel grunts. “I’m looking for someone.”

“I’m good at finding people,” the man tells Castiel, and he offers him a sandwich. “Get that in ya. Who’re you looking for?”

Castiel hesitates, but the man is harmless enough. “His name is Dean Winchester.”

“Dean Winchester?” the man repeats, and his face splits into a smile. “Y’mean the hunter? Talks like this?” The man drops his voice several octaves. “Dean and Sam, yeah?”

“You know them?”

“Aw, yeah I know them. Great guys. I’m Garth, by the way.” The man offers Castiel his hand, who stares at it curiously.

“You’re supposed to shake – hold on, hold on, You’re not the angel, are you?”

“Not anymore.”

“Aw man, you’re Castiel aren’t you? The guys are driving all round the country looking for you, they asked me just the other day to keep an eye out. I’ll just give Dean a call—”

“They were looking for me?” Castiel asks, confused.

“Course they were! You’re important to ’em, man. The Winchesters and their angel, that’s what they say. Yo, Dean!” he says, abruptly cutting himself off and pressing his phone to his ear. “I found him. Your angel, yeah...no, I haven’t checked…fine, hold on.” Garth pauses, unscrewing a bottle of water and tossing it at Castiel, who splutters. “Nope, not possessed. Yeah, where are you at the moment? – okay, I’m gonna text you some co-ordinates, and you’re gonna meet us there tonight. Nah, I’ll keep him safe. See you then.”

“Keep me safe?” Castiel repeats.

“You’re a target,” Garth replies matter-of-factly. “Demons are out for all you angels right now. But don’t worry, they know not to mess with the Garth.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Castiel says bluntly, but the man just grins and pulls Castiel to his feet.

“I could use a burger,” he says. “C’mon, burger time.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel isn’t sure what to expect from his reunion with Dean – anger, maybe, the icy silence of the bunker – but as soon as he sees him, Dean’s face splits into a wide grin and he wraps his arms around Castiel.

“Cas, you son of a bitch,” he mutters, and Castiel isn’t sure what to do but tentatively puts his arms around Dean as well, and Dean squeezes him tighter for a moment before stepping back. “Man, when was the last time you showered?”

“When I got out of Purgatory.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Okay, let’s get you back to the motel. Thanks for finding him, Garth.”

“No problem,” Garth says, and Castiel turns to him.

“Thank you for your help,” he says sincerely.

“Hey, no problem, man. See you guys later!”

Once in the privacy of the Impala, Dean turns to Castiel. “You wanna tell me what the hell happened last week?”

“Naomi was right,” Castiel replies, defeat weighing his voice down. “Metatron – he was planning to expell all the angels from Heaven. He succeeded.”

“And when did you find out he was lyin’?” The question is loaded, and Castiel knows it. _Did you complete the trials, was this your fault?_

“Too late,” Castiel replies simply. “You stopped Sam, I see.”

“Yeah, but I’m worried about him, man. He’s still sick. Hasn’t left the motel for two days. Doesn’t seem to be getting better.”

There’s nothing Castiel can say to that – he knows, already, that Sam’s sickness isn’t something that can be healed by any means he knows of  - but also that Dean won’t stop at anything to help his brother. Maybe, if Castiel can find a way of helping Sam, he can make up for all the times he failed both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel does not allow himself the liberty of dwelling on his fall, and three days and three sleepless nights after his arrival at the bunker, going through the Men of Letters library to jog his painfully limited human memory, he arrives at his answer.

“Dean,” he says urgently that morning when Dean comes into the kitchen. He looks as bad as Castiel, who knows he’s been up half the night anxiously watching over Sam.

“Yeah, Cas.”

“I know how we can help Sam.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks skeptically. “How? You said yourself you couldn’t heal him, back when you still had your wings.”

Castiel flinches, but Dean doesn’t notice – or if he does, doesn’t equate his careless comment with Castiel’s reaction.

“Yes,” Castiel confirms, his voice slightly heavier than it had been a moment ago. “Because the sickness is a supernatural one, and the source is stronger than I was. The trials were set by God.”

“Wait – so we need something more powerful than _God?”_ Dean raises his eyebrows. “Death?”

“No. You and I are not…on the _best of terms_ with him. I’ve no doubt he could help. I also have no doubt he would kill us both the moment we unbound him.”

“So what, then?”

“God is no longer the most powerful deity,” Castiel says slowly, and this time Dean picks up on the pain lacing his words. “Heaven has fallen. _We_ have fallen. The roles we once filled will be taken over.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel says heavily. “I don’t know who’s next in line. But whoever they are, one of them will be able to heal Sam.”

“So, what? We go through every minor god in the universe and ask ’em if they’ve taken over Heaven?”

“We ask them to help Sam,” Castiel replies.

“Right. Great. So where do we start?”

“Well,” Castiel says thoughtfully as he sways on his feet, “I may sleep. I don’t  believe I’m functioning as I should right now.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“In the car on the way here. So…three days ago.”

“Cas, you gotta sleep. Humans gotta sleep. Go to bed.”

 

* * *

 

The next week passes in a haze of god-summoning. Dean brings down a massive pile of books into the dungeon filled with demigod lore, but Castiel ignores them and does everything from memory, occasionally barking out instructions or necessary ingredients for summoning spells. He slips effortlessly from one ancient language to another, commenting that he had at least retained his ‘celestial intellect,’ and Dean thinks that he’ll never have to read a book again with Cas around.

Most of the gods or demigods they summon seem to recognise Castiel, some recognise the Winchesters. They meet Kali again, who, apart from looking pissed that they’ve dragged her away from her own business, looks Sam dead in the eye, thanks him for putting Lucifer in the cage and tells him she would heal him if she could, before disappearing again.

“I’ve never known Kali to be that helpful,” Castiel says, confused.

“She had a thing with your brother.”

Castiel arches one eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Dean. I have thousands of brothers.”

“Gabriel.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Castiel decides. There’s a loud bang as he throws a handful of unidentified herbs onto the smouldering altar before him and murmurs an incantation.

Standing before them is an earnest looking curly-haired youth, barely twenty years old, clad in a neat woollen jersey and dress pants that hang off his wiry frame.

 “Sam Winchester,” he says quietly, ignoring Dean and Castiel and striding over to where Sam is slumped at the back of the dungeon, watching the proceedings dubiously.

“Who’re you?” Sam asks.

“I can help,” the boy says, and touches Sam lightly on the forehead. Dean watches incredulously as the colour returns to Sam’s face and the brightness to his eyes.

“Huh,” Sam manages, getting to his feet and immediately dwarfing the boy beside him. “Uh, thanks…I guess. How did you do that?”

“I just did,” the boy replies.

“So what happens now?” Dean asks. “Are we in your debt or somethin’? Hell, who are you anyway?”

“Ask the angel who summoned me,” the boy answers, glancing at Castiel. “Of course I recognise you. The shadow of your wings is still visible to me. They are not as splendid as they once were.”

“I fell,” Castiel says flatly. “My wings are gone.”

“Absent,” the boy corrects with the hint of a smile. “But not lost. Not forgotten. As for your question, Dean – you have already paid your debt to me. You believe.”

Dean blinks, and the boy is gone.

“You wanna tell me who the hell that was?” he asks, turning to Castiel, who seems lost in thought. “Hey. Earth to Cas. Who was pretty boy?”

Castiel frowns. “I did not expect him to be the answer.”

“A _name,_ Cas.”

“Asclepius, son of Apollo. The Olympians have the throne of Heaven.”


End file.
